


Among the Dead

by Fantismal



Series: Believe in Yourself [2]
Category: Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube), Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Also still-YouTubers AU, Daniel Kyre is being talked to, M/M, Mark's POV, Mentions of unintentional animal neglect, Spoilers for True to Yourself, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8184575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: Mark knew this would happen eventually. He just wishes he could apologize to Jack for being a dick. Until, of course, the super known as Key convinces him to be even MORE of a dick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not read True to Yourself, you really need to. This story won't make much sense without it.
> 
> If you HAVE read it... kuro asked for the cemetery scene from Mark's POV, and...well...yeah. Rabid plot bunny ahoy!

“Nobody checked on Chica.” Mark hunched forward, tucking his chin against his knees. He knew Daniel wasn’t here, not even in spirit, knew Daniel wasn’t listening...but it helped. Pretending he was. Pretending he was still able to support Mark. It wasn’t like there was anyone else left.

“Somehow, that was the worst part. Getting caught, getting tortured, getting unmasked, getting fucking _dumped_ like that, back at my own house?” Mark shook his head, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. He always wore contacts as Warfstache, but he preferred his glasses. They weren’t just a secret identity. They were easier than fiddling with contacts, easier to keep clean, easier to remove when he wanted to sleep, wanted to cry… “We both knew that was coming. I’m honestly shocked CC hadn’t figured it out sooner. When they hauled me in for questioning after they found out about you…”

Mark had figured he was living on borrowed time as it was. Getting unmasked had almost been a _relief_ , in the end. He no longer had to wonder how much CC actually knew. The answer was everything. They knew everything.

“But _Chica_ , god, she’s just skin and bones, no one noticed I was missing, no one even thought to _check_ …” Surely people had noticed. Markiplier couldn’t vanish from the internet for two weeks without the community raising a fuss. But nobody who had actually known where Mark lived had been concerned enough to look in on his dog. What if he had fallen down the stairs and cracked his skull open? What if he’d had another heart attack? _Nobody checked._

Jack might’ve. If Jack weren’t five thousand miles away. If Jack lived in L.A., he almost certainly would have called Mark after his first silent day, and come over by the second or third, pounding on the door until Mark opened it, and calling for help when Mark didn’t. Yeah. Mark could easily see the green-haired Irishman doing that. Jack cared so fucking much about everyone. About Mark.

Mark wasn’t as oblivious as he pretended. He had known Jack’s baby-YouTuber crush on him had never gone away, but since Jack had always tried to pretend it wasn’t a thing, Mark had followed his lead. He’d joke about Septiplier though, pushing at Jack on the edges, testing his reactions…

He hadn’t actually expected Jack to kiss him at that one PAX. Hadn’t expected Jack to kiss him _again,_ after they’d pulled apart and stared at each other and realized it wasn’t just a dare. _Certainly_ hadn’t expected to have Jack naked in his hotel bed that night, fucking curses in four languages out of the smaller man, nor had he actually expected Jack to let him in the second night.

Jack was... _perfect_. So fucking perfect. He was clever and funny, with the same immature dick humor as Mark, the same love for his work, the same crazy-fast YouTube explosion. He and Mark had clicked as friends from their very first GMod game, and meeting Jack in person for the first time had only confirmed Mark’s belief that Jack McLoughlin was one of the people in the world he was _destined_ to know, like Daniel had been, like Wade, like Bob.

Jack was perfect as a boyfriend too, a bit shy and unsure of what he was doing, but willing to try anything once. He was great to just _talk_ to, at any hour of the day, and he was always able to cheer Mark up. _Always_.

And that was why, when Mark would suck on Jack’s dick, he’d imagine Jack was an anonymous man who could move faster than sound, who dressed in red and defied gravity to save the world. Mark curled his hands into fists and pressed them against his forehead. God, he was so fucked up. He literally had the perfect man, the _perfect_ man, and he’d imagine he was somebody whose very life depended on remaining _completely_ anonymous. He could never have Key, and yet Jack wasn’t enough. Jack had given Mark everything, _everything_ Mark had asked of him, and Mark...Mark hadn’t even been able to give Jack his loyalty. He’d flirted shamelessly with Key, all but begging him to fuck. He’d gone so far as to touch Key’s face beneath a blanket, taking advantage of Key’s exhaustion to do what was practically their equivalent of public sex. Key had a beard. That was something Mark knew that no one else did. No one else in the _world_.

Mark was a complete _dick_ to Jack. Breaking up with him had been the best thing he could have done. Mark had loved Jack, _still_ loved Jack... but he’d had to lie to him. He’d had to keep half of _himself_ from Jack...and he couldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_. Not after the freedom he’d had with Daniel. Mark had lied, and he’d chased another man, and he’d pretended Jack wasn’t important, and…

And he’d never get to apologize.

Mark curled up even tighter, sucking in a tearful breath. He’d never be able to explain himself _properly_ to Jack. Explain how he was a super, how he’d had to live a life of secrets, how he couldn’t live without sharing that with his partner. How _that_ had been the real cause of his breakup, and not Jack, not in any way Jack.

Mark’s phone had died during his captivity, and he’d left it behind when he fled his house. He didn’t need to give CC an easier way of tracking him down. He’d sent a few messages to Jack via Skype, but the other YouTuber didn’t respond. His busy status had been genuine, then, and not just an attempt to weed out people who shouldn’t have been disturbing him in the first place. Mark had lingered as long as he’d dared, but he’d known CC was going to come after him soon. He’d given Chica a hug, kissed her golden fur, whispered apologies for her abandonment, promised he’d love her forever, begged her to be good to whoever found her...and he’d fled into the city with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a backpack full of whatever essentials he’d been able to think to grab, like his toothbrush...and _fuck_ , he’d forgotten toothpaste. Godfuckingdamn.

There was a _shush_ along the gravel paths of the cemetery and Mark froze. He knew that whisper of movement, knew it in his heart. Usually it was a _good_ sound, the sound of a super racing to his aid, but now? Now there was only one reason Key would be in this cemetery.

Mark pushed off the ground, darting away from the plaque commemorating Daniel’s life. That was the first place Key would look. Further away were larger tombstones and memorials, easier places for him to hide.

Why was he even bothering? What good would running from CC do? They’d find him eventually. They’d kill him. No super got away.

But if he ran...maybe he could get in touch with Jack. Maybe. Even if it was just borrowing some internet at a public library and hashing out an email. He just needed a little time, just a little more. He needed to set things right with Jack before he died. He _needed_ to. Jack deserved that much.

“Warf? Is that you?”

Key’s voice plucked at Mark’s heart, setting it aching. He lifted a hand to bite at his knuckle, closing his eyes tightly. _Key_. He loved this man too, every bit as much as he loved Jack. He didn’t even know his real _name_ , or what his voice sounded like without his helmet’s modulator. There was a slight autotune tinniness to Key’s Jersey accent, just enough to make him sound like he could be a robot, but Mark knew better. He knew the body beneath that red suit was lean and strong and _warm_ , with a human heart beating beneath human skin. He’d clung to Key so many times in the past, holding his hand, his shoulders, his back, as Key darted through an unmoving world, ripping Mark through time itself. Key was _amazing_ , so much power packed into such a lithe form, and Mark _adored_ him.

“Warf?” There were normal footsteps now. Key was moving at a speed others could comprehend. “It’s Key. I’m here to help.”

_As if I didn’t recognize your voice the moment you spoke._ Mark bit down harder on his knuckle. He would have drawn blood if it hadn’t hurt first, and his skin hardened immediately to protect against further pain. That was why he was _able_ to run. Most unmasking victims were too burned out by what the Crusaders did to them in an attempt to get further information about the supers. Mark had only felt momentary flickers of pain before his body hardened (or softened, or thinned out, or turned springy, or whatever was needed to deflect serious injury). The Crusaders had resorted to mental torture like sleep deprivation and withholding food or water, but even then, Mark’s body had found ways to adapt.

But _Key_ , of course Key would be the one to kill him. Key moved through time. He was the only super who even had a _chance_ of moving fast enough to cause enough damage to Mark before his ability could kick in. Key could have Mark decapitated before his nerves registered the pain. He could punch Mark’s heart out, _literally_. Mark had seen what damage Key’s momentum could unleash. The super might only be as strong as a normal man, but when combined with his speed, Key’s fists turned into missiles of fury with more force than a herd of rampaging bull elephants.

“Did they send you to be my executioner?” Key knew he was there. His footsteps had been approaching Mark’s hiding spot. Mark wouldn’t be able to run from the red super. His only hope was to pray on any friendship Key still felt for him. He remembered how Key had clung to him on the rooftop, after Mark had cut him out of that net. He remembered Key stumbling and reaching for him, screaming his codename as Mark felt the jerk of teleportation.

“Or did you volunteer?”

Mark needed to know how Key ended up here. He needed to know that Key still considered him a friend. Maybe, if Key helped him, he could get a message to Jack before Key killed him. Or maybe he could write a letter that Key could deliver? Maybe. It was worth a shot. Mark had nothing left to lose.

“Neither, you idiot.” Key’s voice was wavering even through his helmet’s modulator. It made Mark’s heart _ache_. “I’ve come to get you out of here. Let’s go.”

Well shit. _Shit._ That was not what Mark had been expecting. Key was supposed to come to _kill_ him, not come to _help him run_. That threw off Mark’s plans of getting a message to Jack through Key, and if Key helped him in any other way, then it would put a death warrant on _Key’s_ head. Mark couldn’t do that to his friend. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” _Kill me, Key, you’re supposed to kill me…_ “You do realize that you’ve led them straight to me?” _What were you thinking, throwing your life away?_

“Didn’t. I cut out the microchip. Warf, I’m on _your_ side, CC be damned.”

“They can track the suits, dumbass.” Mark squeezed his eyes shut, his bag scraping against the memorial stone as he shivered, curling his arms around his waist. Key cut out his chip? That _idiot_. That stupid, blind, goddamn  _lovable_ idiot… “If you really did cut out your chip, then they’re definitely coming after you now.”

“They couldn’t track yours…” There was uncertainty in that robotic tone. Mark risked peeking around the stone to steal a glance at the red super. Key had his helmet tilted to the side, standing just a few yards away from where Mark was hiding. He was thinking. Mark knew that pose.

“The Crusaders fried it with an EMP. Didn’t do shit to the chip, so they had to cut that out with a knife.” Key was thinking...and then he was tugging at his gloves, ripping them off and revealing pale skin. There was dried blood down the back of his right hand. Mark’s breath caught in his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my suit off.” Key flung his gloves down harder than they deserved, and then reached for his helmet. “What does it look like?”

“Key, _stop_.” Mark’s own safety be damned, Key was about to _kill_ himself! He stepped out from behind the statue, reaching for the other super, the only man he’d consider a friend right now. “Stop,” he begged, offering himself up to keep Key from unmasking himself. “You can still survive this. Go back to CC. You’ll be safe.”

“For how long?” Key’s long fingers unsnapped the clasps holding his helmet to his suit, each click ringing like a gunshot in Mark’s ears. “How long until the Crusaders catch me in another net? How long until I’m the one CC’s hunting?”

Mark jerked forward, covering Key’s hands with his own. Key’s skin was warm beneath his touch, _real_. Key was a real person, a real man, and this was the closest Mark had ever been to him. “If you do this, you are _definitely_ dead.” Mark had blown up a man with a bazooka, a _man_ , not an alien, because he had been trying to kill Key. How could he let Key kill himself? _How?_

“After I do this,” Key said calmly, “we’re going down together. Warf. Mark. Please.”

Key wasn’t exactly _begging_ , he was just asking Mark to understand. To accept that this was Key’s decision, and it was already made. Mark wanted to close his eyes and bask in the sound of his real name in that inhuman voice, but he didn’t. He _couldn’t_. Not when every minute ticked them closer to their deaths. “Why?” Mark asked, his voice breaking with emotion. “Why would you throw your life away?”

“Because I love you.”

Key’s answer came immediately, automatically, too firm for there to be any doubt. Mark stared into his visor, wishing he could see Key’s face, wishing Key would never take off his helmet. _How could you say that_ **_now_** _?_

“And because you, me, _we_ deserve a chance. And we can’t do that with a helmet in the way.”

_Oh fuck._ Mark stared at Key and pictured Jack, _Jack_ , with his Irish accent and green hair, with his wicked smile and wickeder tongue. Mark had just been about to risk everything to apologize to Jack and give him his heart...and then Key went and said _that_ , gave Mark the chance he’d dumped Jack for, and it was always going to be Key. Mark was a terrible, _horrible_ person. Jack should celebrate when Mark died. Jack deserved a better man than him. Because Mark was going to do this. Mark was going to take his hands away from Key’s, was going to step back, was going to let Key unmask himself and throw his life away because Mark had known for years now that if he’d ever had a chance, no matter how small or absurd, to even so much as _kiss_ Key, he’d throw away everything for it. Everything apparently included Key himself. Mark swallowed around the lump in his throat, letting his hands drop to his side.

Key pulled off his helmet, revealing a shock of green hair. The helmet hit the ground, and _blue_ eyes, familiar, _beloved_ blue eyes lifted to meet Mark’s. “Sorry, Mark.” Jack still had that damnable Jersey accent, but without the helmet’s modulator, Mark could _just_ make out the trace of Irish beneath it. “I know I said I wasn’t super, but…”

“... _Jack?_ ” But Mark had just been...Jack had been...Jack was in _Ireland_. This was _Key_. The _super_. The super Mark had known his _entire life_ , the super Mark had loved, the super Mark had dumped Jack for, so many times…

“Help me out of this suit?” The more Jack talked, the more the Irish came back. He was already tugging at his buckles. “If they can track it…”

Mark was still struggling with the revelation that had just been dumped in his arms. Key, his beloved super Key, wore the face of Jack McLoughlin, his beloved YouTube ex. Spoke with his voice. Was the _exact same person._ “ _You’re_ Key!?”

“Mark!” Jack grabbed Mark by the shoulders, standing so close, his expression too solemn to be Jack but perfect for Key. “Mark, can they track my suit? If the answer is yes, I need to get out of it. We have to get out of here.”

“But…”

Any protest Mark was about to make, trying to figure out how the _hell_ he could have missed the fact that Jack had a secret identity, Jack was a super, _Jack was Key_ , was drowned out by the sudden feeling of Jack’s lips on his, heartachingly familiar and yet still strange, as Jack was currently _taller_ than him by several inches thanks to his boots.

“We can discuss me being Key once we’re somewhere safe, okay? And, for that matter, you being Warf. Okay? But right now, we have to move.”

“Right." Jack was Key and Mark was Warf and everyone Mark loved was the same person, and Mark didn’t have any secrets and he didn’t need to hide and he didn’t need to get a message to him, he just needed to run, run _with_ Key, with Jack, run and live and _there was no fucking way_ Mark was going to let CC get their hands on Jack. _No way_. He shook his head, banishing the last of the cobwebs from his head, and stepped closer to Jack, reaching out for the red suit. “Right. Okay. How does your suit go on?”


End file.
